Dances and Jealous Quidditch Prats
by Sassy SOBettes
Summary: Tsk Tsk... Marcus Flint jumps to conclusions almost like a Gryffindor when he sees Akasha dancing with Oliver Wood. Longish SOBcookie for V-Day Challenge


**NOTES:** My second V-Day challenge submission. But this one, I can't really take credit for…

Dedicated to Kate, because this was basically HER idea, and besides, she is the coolest plot bunny tosser on the planet! You ROCK! Much health, wealth and SOBbing to you, dear!

**DISCLAIMER:** Don't sue me. You will end up with nothing but a few broken bones.

*~*~*~*

            "Where the devil does she go every evening?" Marcus Flint muttered angrily to Cassius Warrington, eyes glued upon the portrait hole of the Slytherin common room.

            "Huh?" Warrington was not paying any attention, and Flint growled.

            "Akasha!"

            "Akasha?" Warrington parroted back, "What about Akasha?"

            "She leaves _every_ evening at this time and goes off to heaven-knows-where for an hour! She doesn't have any classes now, and no Prefect rounds or detentions… what the devil can she be doing? Warrington? _Warrington?_ What are _you_ doing?"

            "Trying to see through Anderson's blouse," Warrington said candidly, eyes focused on a dark-haired girl a few feet away, lounging on a sofa and scribbling away on a large parchment roll. Flint stared at the girl in question, who had just paused in her writing to cheerfully slice the parchment off at precisely twenty inches with a knife she pulled out of nowhere. He turned back to his fellow Chaser, who was equally cheerfully ogling said deadly girl and seemingly oblivious or uncaring to the fact that the girl was twirling a knife in her hands, and threw his hands in the air.

            "I... forget about this. I'm obviously talking to a masochistic madman... just... forget about this..."

            "There! A black satin bra... very nice..." Warrington turned back to his Quidditch captain, his attention now focused on Flint, "What were you saying?"

            Flint gave an exasperated sigh, "Akasha!"

            "Akasha's a good-humored one. I've yet to see her smite anyone," Warrington said benevolently. Flint rolled his eyes.

            "That's not what I was _saying!_" Flint groaned. Warrington shrugged unrepentantly.

            "Well, I was occupied a moment ago... care to repeat what you were saying once again?"

            "I was _saying_... for a _week_ now... Akasha's been disappearing at this time in the evening for an hour... no idea _where_ and what she's up to!"

            "Ask her?" Warrington suggested helpfully. Flint scowled.

            "I did once... she said that she was 'sworn to secrecy' or some similar stuff... what the _devil_ could she be keeping from me?"

            "She said that she was 'sworn to secrecy'?" Warrington's eyes widened, "Then you probably don't want to know... probably girly stuff..."

            "Then _why_ isn't she giggling about it with her friends?"

            "Am I supposed to _know_ or something?" Warrington sighed, "I've too many problems of my own to count... there's that stupid dance coming up in a week..."

            "There's _that_ too..." Flint groaned, "Have you asked anyone yet?"

            "I have to wait and make sure that Fallon gets her next Potions exam back," Warrington said quickly, "You know... so she's in a good mood and all..."

            "As her 'good moods', if they actually occur at all, disappear whenever you're around... don't know how good that would do," Flint snarled. It was rather harsh of him to say so; Fallon Anderson was actually surprisingly benign and docile towards Warrington... relatively speaking. In the sense that she had not slapped him more than twice for all his smarminess.

            But Flint was not in a good mood, and therefore was not inclined to think or say anything good of anyone else.

            "Er... perhaps next time she leaves, you should follow her... see what she's up to?"

            Flint paused, then finally spoke, a grin on his face, "That's the first intelligent thing you've said all day."

            "That's the first intelligent I've said that you've _listened_ to."

            "Same difference."

*          *          *

            A day later, Marcus Flint put his plan into action.

            Surreptitiously casting a tracing charm on Akasha during dinner, Marcus Flint watched as Akasha talked briefly to her friends, finished up a Transfiguration assignment, then, once again, walked out of the Common Room.

            Eyes narrowed, Flint waited for about fifteen long, agonizing minutes before stalking out of the Common Room as well, wand drawn.

            Following the signals given by the tracing charm, Flint reached the Muggle Studies classroom. What the devil was Akasha doing here?

            Coming closer, he noticed that the door of the room was ajar... and there was soft music coming from the room.

            And… voices?

            Akasha's voice, soft and smooth and musical... and another voice... with a Scottish accent?

            "All right, now, dip me," Akasha said.

            And as Marcus Flint watched with horrified, furious eyes, he saw Akasha in the arms of none other than _Oliver Wood_, who dipped her as in a tango, bending his plebeian Gryffindork head over her!

            Immeasurably sickened and feeling extremely betrayed, Marcus Flint stormed off back to the Slytherin Common Room.

            Completely unaware of the Slytherin Quidditch captain's furtive and furious arrival and departure from the door of the classroom, Oliver Wood gave Akasha a rather sheepish smile. "Say, I'm really grateful for your help here… I'm afraid that I've two left feet."

            "Oh, it's all right… this time," Akasha smirked, "I'm really doing this more for Persephone than for you."

            "Well yes, I know," Oliver rolled his eyes slightly, "I don't think that most Slytherins would just come and help a Gryffindor for no apparent reason…"

            "Perhaps… you seem to think that we are _bad_," Akasha laughed.

            "Well…"

            "I'm not surprised," Akasha smirked, "Although Persephone ­_is_ nice, hmm?" she asked slyly.

            "Er… yes," Oliver blushed slightly, "Very nice. Umm… do you think that I will do all right? With the dancing and all… thanks again for teaching me how to, by the way…"

            "Oh, stop thanking me… any more and I'll feel disgustingly noble and have to quit teaching you," Akasha retorted, "Then you'll step all over Persephone's toes at the ball."

            "Okay, okay… I won't say anything any more. Now… how do I spin her again?"

*          *          *

            "So, has he asked you to the dance yet?" Fallon asked her friend, cocking her head to the side curiously. Akasha sighed, and looked down at her hands.

            "No… he hasn't. I don't know what's gotten into him… he's so… _cranky_ lately," the older girl said listlessly, "He's been looking at me like… like I've done something horrible to him, and I have no idea why. And the dance is in ­_two days!_"

            "That's odd… even _I_ have been asked already," Fallon muttered, "What's _wrong_ with him? I know he likes you!" The dark-haired girl scowled, her beautiful face with a deadly expression, "I should go and give him a piece of my mind…"

            "No… no, Fallon… don't," Akasha whispered, "I'll go ask him. I mean… we're in modern times, right? We women can certainly go ask the men."

            "Right," Fallon smiled, "Good luck!"

            Akasha stood up from her spot on the couch, looking more confident than she felt, and slowly walked over to where Marcus Flint was in conversation with Alexander Montague.

            "Marcus…"

            Marcus looked up to see who was addressing him, scowled, and walked away without a word.

            Alexander Montague looked rather uncomfortably at Akasha, before opening up a copy of _Carmina_ by Horatius and burying his face in it.

            And Akasha Noctifer was left completely confused and unhappy, and not knowing what exactly had gone wrong.

*          *          *

            That evening, when she went to finish the last of the dancing lessons with Wood, she must have had an extremely downcast air, for even the usually-oblivious-to-everything-but-Quidditch Gryffindor noticed, and asked what was wrong.

            "Oh… it's just… Marcus, he seems to have suddenly developed this grudge against me. I don't know why."

            "He's a prat," Wood immediately said, "He doesn't need a reason."

            Akasha glared at him, "Don't you dare say that about him… it's just that... he's been giving me the cold shoulder, and...and looking at me like I was his mortal enemy or something."

            "You? His mortal enemy?" Wood looked completely mystified, "I thought that's supposed to be _my_ job…"

            "Guess I've usurped your place," Akasha said bitterly, "Oh, have you asked Persephone to the dance yet?"

            "Of course I have," Oliver grinned, "She actually said yes! She must be a very graceful dancer, hmm?"

            "Well of course she is," Akasha said matter-of-factly, "And so… we must work so that you are at least half as graceful. So you don't make her look bad on the dance floor."

            "I see your motive for helping me," Oliver muttered to himself, "Slytherin… but thanks, anyway."

            "What did I say about thanking me?" Akasha rolled her eyes. Oliver grinned sheepishly, and shut up.

            "Well, if I find anything out about Flint being a git… er… more so than usual, anyway, I'll tell you. I owe you one for this."

            "Yes you do," Akasha agreed, "Now, let's waltz."

*          *          *

            It was quite a good thing that Oliver Wood had some connections. After asking a favor of his Seeker, the Gryffindor captain snuck into the locker room after a Slytherin Quidditch practice, and, covered with an Invisibility cloak, stationed himself close to where Flint was… talking with Derrick and Bole. 

            Derrick wanted to know if Bole had asked Kate to the dance, and at the mention of the dreaded word 'dance', the two Beaters were rather surprised to see their Quidditch captain slam a fist into a nearby locker, and growl to himself in rage.

            "Er… Flint, what's the matter?"

            "Weren't you going to ask Akasha to the dance or something?"

            "Akasha's with bloody Oliver _Wood!_ The Gryffindork!" Flint exploded, "I saw them the other night… you know how she _always_ leaves the Common Room for an hour after dinner? She was with bloody Oliver Wood! They were in each other's arms and he was bending over her!"

            Kevin looked genuinely confused, "But that can't be right… Kate said that Wood just asked Persephone."

            "But I _saw_ them!" Marcus said petulantly, crossing his arms over his chest in an almost childish manner.

            The two Beaters shrugged, and Derrick tactfully changed the subject before Marcus could go into über-pout mode.

            And Oliver Wood waited until the Slytherins left, before exiting the locker room, slightly troubled.

            It was, in an indirect way, his fault that Akasha and that prat were at odds…

            But what could he to do about it?

*          *          *

            Out of the entire Slytherin Quidditch team, only Marcus Flint went to the dance alone. Kevin Bole was going with Kate Le Fay, Cassius Warrington with Fallon Anderson. Alexander Montague and Morrigun Lennox were together, as were Adrian Pucey and Malice Haughton, and Draco Malfoy and Ravyn De Borgia. Vittorio Derrick had asked Akasha Noctifer, as the two were friends and mutual confidantes, and she had agreed. After all, Marcus was being a sulky prat… and…

            Akasha was determined to enjoy that Valentine's Day as much as she could, even though with the way things were going, it didn't seem like things would be that enjoyable. 

            Vittorio Derrick, a sympathetic look on his face as he watched her glancing at the scowling Flint every now and then, kindly asked her for a dance, and she quietly agreed. The two went out onto the dance floor, where most of their friends were already paired up and swaying to the music.

            The stately, lush tune of a romantic waltz struck up, and Oliver Wood, a shyly smiling Persephone Vafer in his arms, danced towards the corner of the ballroom where his main rival and nemesis stood, watching the scene and scowling to himself.

            Wood glanced at Flint, and smiled at Persephone, "You're so good at dancing."

            "Thanks," the girl smiled back at him, "So are you… especially for a Gryffindor," she added teasingly.

            Oliver grinned, "Well, one of your friends taught me how… I'm really quite grateful to Akasha, because without her tutelage, I'd probably be making a fool of both of us here."

            Persephone giggled slightly, "Akasha taught you how to dance?"

            Oliver nodded, glancing at Flint again. The Slytherin Quidditch captain had obviously heard this bit of information; his eyes were wide with surprise, and Flint was leaning forward slightly, evidently eager to hear more. "Yes, she did… I asked her for dancing lessons before asking you to this ball, because I wanted to make sure that I didn't step on your feet or anything. It was really quite good of her to help me… whoever her boyfriend is, he's a lucky bloke…" he said clearly, making sure that Marcus Flint could hear every word, before bending slightly over Persephone's dark head and whispering in her ear, "Although… not as lucky as me."

            Oliver saw Marcus stalking away out of the corner of his eye a moment before Persephone kissed him.

*          *          *

            "Well, that was fun…" Vittorio Derrick said to Akasha, after they'd finished a dance. The girl nodded slightly, and looked at the door.

            "Yes, it was," she said quietly, "I'm going to step out for a moment, though… to get some fresh air."

            "That's perfectly all right," Derrick smiled, "I'll get us some drinks, all right?"

            "All right, thanks," Akasha smiled back. Derrick, a true Slytherin gentleman, escorted her to the door and the charmed grotto of blooming red roses and fairy lights outside, and walked back into the hall to get the two of them some iced butterbeer.

            Marcus Flint nearly crashed into his Beater as he rushed towards the door.

*          *          *

            He found Akasha sitting alone on a stone bench, staring at the heavens. Scratching his head, he paused, then walked up to her.

            "Er… hello," he said rather uncomfortably. She turned slowly, and raised an eyebrow at him.

            "Good evening to you, Flint," she said in a cool voice. His heart dropped slightly.

            Calling him by his last name was not a good sign. Not for Akasha, anyway.

            "Er… are you enjoying yourself?" he tried lamely. She gave an icy little shrug.

            "Oh, spiffingly, you?"

            "I… was watching Wood and Persephone dancing."

            "Oh, and did you enjoy that exercise?" she asked with impeccable, impersonal politeness.

            "I…" Marcus paused, then growled and sat down on the bench next to her. She scooted over, putting some space between the two of them, and he scowled before grabbing one of her hands. "Look, Akasha… I saw you and Wood dancing together one evening, and thought that there was something going on between you two… I admit that I jumped to conclusions about that and that I was being stupid… I overheard Wood tell Persephone that you had just been teaching him to dance and… I feel stupid now," he concluded gruffly.

            She looked at him, still silent, expectant… and he knew what she wanted from him.

            "Sorry. I was a prat. I won't do it again… and I'm sorry for ruining your Valentine's Day," he muttered.

            She gave him a half-smile, "_Honestly_, the way you jumped to conclusions… that's almost like a Gryffindor…"

            "Dear God…" he grimaced, "Well then… I will certainly remember never to jump to conclusions again… like a Gryffindor, indeed…" Saying so, he stood up and walked over to a nearby rosebush, carefully cutting away a perfect red rose with a severing charm, and then removing the thorns with another wave of his wand. With a rather uncertain, shame-faced smile, he walked up to Akasha, and carefully tucked the rose behind her ear.

            She grinned and allowed him to pull her into his arms.

*          *          *

            Vittorio Derrick, returning with drinks to where he'd left Akasha a few minutes earlier, saw that the girl was rather… busy. Shaking his head to himself and giving the completely oblivious snogging couple a wry glance, he muttered, "Happy Valentine's Day", before retracing his footsteps and walking back into the Great Hall.

            Ah well, at least no one was pouting any more.


End file.
